The 73rd Hunger Games
by TheGirlFromDistrictOne
Summary: "I deserved to be chosen. My rankings in every class beat all the other students of my gender, and most of the opposite gender, by a landslide. I had proved myself over and over, turned my body into a weapon and my mind into a machine." Follow Flare Diamandis through her triumphs and hardships, and how she became the original Girl on Fire. Strong language/violence/dark themes
1. Chapter 1

I hated Saturdays.

Saturdays were unproductive. I didn't like to be unproductive. The Academy was closed to students and I more or less lived at the Academy. I could only do so much at my gym at home, as its facilities were poor in comparison to that of the technically illegal training centre that I'd dedicated my life to for the past 6 years.

I stretched out, feeling the crisp spring grass beneath my fingers and listening to the hum of the earth. It was no good, lazing around like this on the front lawn, but I'd already worked myself to the point of near collapse at dawn this morning. Being unable to sleep, I'd got up early and headed straight to my gym to distract myself from my thoughts.

Squinting as the sun peered out from behind the clouds, I tried to reason with myself that I deserved a break, that I deserved to spend this weekend resting my body and reflecting on this past week. I couldn't convince myself. I didn't like to be unproductive.

I sat up straight, narrowing my eyes and glancing around me quickly to make sure no one had been watching me do nothing. One of the benefits of living in the Victors' Village had to be the quiet. District 1 had the most living Victors out of all the districts, with newly-crowned Victors moving into the Village once every few years, but it still managed to remain peaceful. Most of the time, anyway.

As if on cue, an obnoxiously loud beast of a car roared to life across the street. It was a sleek, stylish silver vehicle that only few who lived outside of the Capitol could afford. Of course, it was my neighbours, the infamous Casanova family. I only wish they were as charming as their namesake. In the driver's seat was the equally sleek and stylish Gaius Casanova, the patriarch of his family and Victor of the 49th Hunger Games. His hair was as silver as the car he drove despite only being 44 years of age, however he had still retained his godlike good looks, which had had a great deal to do with how well he'd fared in the arena.

He pulled out of his driveway and tore down the street at a ridiculous speed. I knew where he was going. He was attending a meeting at the Academy, a meeting concerning the subject which had been the cause of my recent bout of insomnia. In this meeting, the higher-ups were going to be discussing who would be chosen to volunteer for the 73rd annual Hunger Games.

It was almost certain, that that someone would be me. Shivers of anticipation gripped me suddenly, sending shockwaves down my limbs. I had worked so hard. I had pushed myself far beyond my limits. I had subjected myself to the most intense forms of training, sessions of mental and physical torture that only a select few could bear. I had come out unscathed and I had come out ready. There wasn't a soul alive that wanted this more than I, of that I was sure.

Tremors still raced through me as I remembered just how far I'd gone to even be considered. I deserved to be chosen. My rankings in every class beat all the other students my gender, and most of the opposite gender, by a landslide. I had proved myself over and over, turned my body into a weapon and my mind into a machine. Still, there was this niggling doubt in the back of my mind that wouldn't quite leave me alone. What if I hadn't done enough? What if I still wasn't at the top of my game? What if they decided someone else was better for the job? What if?

I scolded myself internally. This way of thinking would achieve nothing. Deep down inside me I knew there was nothing more I could've done to convince them, the mentors and the Victors and the officials that I was the best. It still didn't kill that niggle, though.

I hated Saturdays.

Rising to my feet, I ignored the ache of protest from my tired legs. This past week had been gruelling, to say the least. With the Reaping drawing near, we'd been through a final set of tests, both theory and practical based, to determine who would gain the right to volunteer. It had been difficult but as always I had relished in the challenge. Challenges and being productive was what kept me sane, and right now, I was just stood here _thinking_. That wouldn't do.

Setting off across the Village, I once again acknowledged the quiet. A lot of the Victors would be at the meeting at the Academy, of course, and not many of them had families. The Casanova's were the largest family here, with Gaius and his wife having two sons left, one of which would undoubtedly be my district partner. Jet was the only person who always topped me in the rankings. He was a magnificent specimen. Even I, who had always looked past the beauty and the fame and seen him for what he truly was, could admit that he was the favourite not because his father had connections and a massive influence, but because he was born and bred to be a winner. Jet had his place in the Games set in stone from the moment he'd first picked up an axe.

Coming to the edge of the Village, I hoisted myself up onto the surrounding outer wall that separated us from the rest of the district and tried to enjoy the good weather we were having. To my disdain, another obnoxiously loud vehicle came from the opposite direction Gaius had left in, and this car was a fiery red. Marcus Casanova, Gaius's eldest son, perhaps? It was beyond me how any members of that crazy family were allowed to drive. Speeding up to the Village, the driver noticed me glaring disapprovingly and slowed down, rolling down their darkly tinted window.

"Are you nervous, orphan? You should be, because I heard that Reyna Auralius smashed the shit out of your scores in the final tests!" came a dreadfully familiar voice from inside the car.

It was possibly the only time I'd ever be disappointed not to see Marcus. Instead, Jet Casanova smirked over at me and waited for a barb in retaliation.

"Keep driving. In two weeks time, you'll be dead, so enjoy your daddy's money while you still can."

I usually wouldn't respond. My image meant everything, and to lose my composure in front of this arrogant piece of shit would make me not only look a fool, but I would also never forgive myself for stooping so low. Besides, what he'd said was a blatant lie. Reyna Auralius had shot an arrow 6 feet wide of the target and hit Venus Esmer in the thigh. She's definitely not someone I'd consider a threat.

Jet snorted at my dig and flipped me off, slamming on the accelerator and shouting some insult over his shoulder, although I couldn't hear him due to the stupidly large engine under his bonnet.

I sighed in exasperation, closing my eyes and again trying to achieve peace of mind, which would prove strenuous after that little exchange. Also, the meeting was still underway and would be for another 24 hours, at least.

I hated Saturdays.


	2. Chapter 2

The wait was over.

I tried not to fidget in my seat in the back of the taxi, but I had to _move._ Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to get up and do something, the pounding of my heart drowning out any other noise. The Academy loomed ever closer, and it was the only time I'd ever thought the building ominous. Nerves and excitement churned my stomach as I paid the driver and stepped out of the cab. It was me. They'd picked me.

It had to be me.

I managed to keep my face void of emotion and my walk collected as I strode into the Academy. It was a large building with high ceilings and bright ceiling lights. The gyms and other training facilities were on the ground floor, with all the classrooms and offices and such upstairs. I let out a shaky breath and headed up the stairs. This was all I'd ever wanted. It had to be me. There was only me.

Early this Monday morning, I'd practically thrown myself at the phone when it rang. It was the head trainer at the Academy and Victor of the 67th Hunger Games, Augustus Braun, calling to tell me that a decision had been made and that I was to be at the Academy at 12 o'clock. I hadn't stopped moving since then. Augustus had been recently promoted to head trainer. Young, handsome and a genuinely nice guy, he was immensely popular in the Capitol. I'd always tried to remain in his good graces. That involved not sassing him or stabbing him as I had done other trainers. The stabbing part was accidental, or so I told them.

So here I was. I knew how this worked. The Academy would call in the top five males and the top five females from the rankings, and whichever one male and one female had scored the best results in the final tests would be going into the arena. I entered one of the bigger classrooms and discovered that I was unsurprisingly the first student to arrive. The room fell silent as I walked in. Several officials, including the Mayor, and all of the Academy trainers were gathered at the front of the room on a raised stage. I gave them a cool smile and took a seat in the row of five chairs designated for the girls. Augustus gave me a wink before turning to talk in hushed tones with the other trainers. I rolled my eyes at their secrecy, for soon all would be revealed.

As the other students began to arrive, I pondered over what that wink could've meant. Was Augustus reassuring me? Trying to tell me not to worry, because I had succeeded?

My buzzing thoughts were interrupted as Jet noisily entered the room, feeling the need to make a grand entrance, as always. He wore a lazy grin that told everyone that he knew he had been chosen and that they all knew it too. I took him in from head to toe. A model of physical perfection, Jet was tall and hard and golden. His chiselled jawline, rich blonde hair and eyes as black as the gem he was named for ensured that he got plenty of female attention. I had even been slightly taken with him myself when we had first met at 12 years old. But that was well in the past. And it was before he had opened his mouth, of course.

"Can we get this over with? Dad's throwing a party to celebrate my victory today, so I need to get ready," Jet announced with a sardonic smile.

Several of the other students gaped in disbelief at his arrogance, but they should honestly expect this kind of behaviour by now. I remained impassive. I was well past the point of being disgusted by Jet's attitude. I had seen the worst of him, and the cocky demeanour was a blessing in comparison.

"Of course!" boomed the Mayor heartily, almost tripping over his own feet in a rush to clap Jet on the shoulder. I sneered at him. He had always been in Gaius Casanova's wallet. "Let's get started. Augustus?"

"Let's," Augustus nodded, taking his place at centre stage and addressing us at last. "As you know, only two of you will leave this room as Tributes today. You've all proved worthy potential Tributes and are lucky to have made it this far. The results of the final tests have been conclusive. Firstly, our male tribute."

I glanced over at Jet, and found that there was no tension in his posture. He didn't need to be nervous. He was the best. Better than me. That fact stung.

"Jet Casanova, congratulations," Augustus declared. The officials and trainers in the room burst into applause among several groans of disappointment from the other male students. Jet's stance barely changed. His smirk grew wider and he gave a light shrug.

"Was there any other option, really?" he challenged. I suppose there wasn't.

"As for our female tribute," Augustus continued. I clenched my jaw. It was me. It could only be me. The tension in the room became unbearable. I wanted nothing more than to jump up out of my seat. My hands drifted of their own accord to my waist, where I more often than not wore a belt which held my knives, only to find that they weren't there.

"Flare Diamandis."

In that moment, I think I felt something close to joy. I let out a breath, and then I started to laugh. People started embracing me but I barely felt them.

"Of course it was me. Of course it was."

I rambled between bursts of ecstatic laughter, and then rose abruptly to my feet. The applause ceased and everyone waited for what I would say next.

"I'm going to be the best thing the Hunger Games has ever seen," I promised, all traces of my outburst gone and an edge to my voice that didn't leave any room for argument. Even Jet didn't say anything, although he did let out a snort.

Returning to my usual stoic state, I took my seat and sat quietly while Augustus explained the volunteering process, but I wasn't listening. It was information I was all too aware of. All there was to do now was wait three days. Three days until the Reaping. And then I would be unleashed upon the world. I would make something of myself, as I had sworn to do while wallowing in self pity after losing both parents in the same year. Thinking of the snivelling, grief stricken 11 year old I had been, I started to feel restless and was swift to leave the room when Augustus dismissed us.

"Flare!" I spun around in surprise to see Jet hurrying after me.

He adopted his signature smirk. "You're coming to my party, right?"

If I hadn't been taken aback before by Jet's uncommon use of my first name in place of an insult, then I certainly was now.

"What? I'm suddenly worth your time now that there's no doubt that I'm the best?" I snipped, my tone steely.

"You're still bitter because I rejected you when we were kids?" Jet teased, smugness radiating off of him like a bad smell.

I snorted and turned away, tired of this conversation and unwilling to give him anymore satisfaction.

"It starts at six. Be there. I only ask because Dad insisted," he continued, keeping pace at my side. So that explained this unnatural friendliness. "And orphan, now that we're all grown up, if you want to get on top of this, all you have to do is ask."

I grimaced at his crude gesture to his lower regions. It wasn't the first time he'd made some kind of proposition to me. The first time had been the day that I had watched him kill someone.

Upon returning home, I fell into the nearest couch and allowed myself to smile. I had done it. Of course I had. Three days. The wait was almost over. Deciding to take a hot bath and get an early night to reward myself, I scowled as the commotion began across the street. It seemed Gaius had gone all out and sent for workers to dress the place up for the party. That reminded me. The party. Should I attend? Assuming Jet's invitation wasn't a joke as it had first seemed, and Gaius actually wanted me there, I suppose it would be foolish not to go. There will be Capitol officials there for certain. That meant potential sponsors. It meant mixing with the right crowd and establishing myself as the main threat early on.

I sighed and headed into my closet to pick an outfit.


	3. Chapter 3

The noise was distracting.

My eyes never lingered in one place for too long, scouring each room for people of importance. Music and chatter and the clinking of glasses made it difficult to assess people. It was deafening, and I was becoming frustrated. Taking a break to collect myself, I sat at a stool at the Casanova's grand circular bar. The bartender started in my direction, but I held up a hand to stop him. It would do me no good to have alcohol in my system tonight.

I spotted Gaius Casanova descending his magnificent spiral staircase, and the party guests erupted into cheers.

"Welcome!" Gaius greeted. "Thank you all for gathering here on such short notice!"

It wasn't exactly short notice. We all knew about the strings he had pulled to ensure Jet's victory today, even though he didn't need the assistance.

"Tonight we are celebrating the success of my youngest son, Jet," Gaius continued, clasping Jet's shoulder who had come to stand beside him. "He has achieved the greatest honour of our district and of our family. He will participate in the 73rd annual Hunger Games!"

The guests burst into applause as I gave an eye roll and almost reconsidered getting something to drink.

"Let us also acknowledge the equally impressive feat of Jet's female counterpart, Miss Flare Diamandis. Together, they will make an unstoppable tandem!"

I quickly masked my expression of surprise as the attention turned to me. Gaius had gestured in my direction as he spoke, and suddenly, I was somebody to the guests around me. They clapped and stared, several of the men's eyes fixed a little too low for my liking. Then again, I had asked for as much in choosing this low cut dress to wear. I _was_ here to attract attention, after all.

Gaius concluded his speech with a toast and everyone resumed their idle talk. I hadn't expected Gaius to mention me. He had barely nodded in my direction my entire life, but now he seemed to sing praises about me. As I supposed, I was somebody to them now.

I spent the next hour or so mingling coolly, chatting with people I knew had status in the Capitol. Several of the guests were in fact from the Capitol itself, but I couldn't manage to find an opportunity to approach them, as Gaius kept them very close. Very clever. I imagine he didn't want me taking all the attention from his son. He didn't want potential sponsors to jump ship once they realised that I was formidable. Not as strong as Jet, nor as physically imposing, but I was considerably smarter.

Tiring of making acquaintances, forcing false smiles and accepting congratulations, I again took my seat at the bar and only communicated if someone approached me. I was satisfied I had at least put myself out there, with Gaius's bemusing assistance. I was still reeling over the fact that he had even known my name. Perhaps Jet had made mention of me. Not kindly, of that I'm sure.

Wincing as icy liquid splattered up my arm, I jerked my head to the side and scowled as an extremely drunk, extremely fat man fell into the seat beside me. He didn't seem to notice he'd spilled his drink, or even notice where he was, for that matter. I took him in with a jolt. Dyed purple hair, tattoos across his knuckles and each tooth studded with a different coloured gem. I had noticed him conversing with Gaius earlier. This man was from the Capitol, and as drunk and repulsive as he was, I had to at least attempt to make conversation.

As he rather rudely shouted the bartender over to serve him, I plastered on a sweet, sultry expression.

"Good evening, sir," I said politely. He swung around too quickly, almost falling out of his chair, obviously not noticing my presence before now. His eyes raked over my body, and I struggled not to glare as he leered openly at my chest.

"A good evening it is indeed. How have I not spoken to you already, Miss?" he slurred, still not meeting my eyes.

"Diamandis. Flare Diamandis," I introduced myself, a little more bite in my tone than intended. Thankfully, he was too drunk to notice.

"Of course!" he said far too loudly and spilling more of his drink. "Gaius spoke very highly of you. What he failed to mention was how beautiful you were."

I stifled a grimace at the lecherous remark and tried not to recoil when he leaned closer to me.

"They'll like you very much in the Capitol," he said in a low tone. I wasn't sure that I liked what that implied.

Nevertheless, I beamed widely. "I hope so, sir."

"No need for such formalities among friends, pretty girl. I am Tiberius Portworth, Gamemaker."

It was my turn to almost fall out of my chair. A Gamemaker? I knew Gaius had connections, but this surpassed even my expectations.

I needn't mask my surprise this time, for he probably couldn't see clearly anyway. Instead, even though every fibre of being protested, I leaned even closer and practically purred. "It's an honour to meet you, Tiberius. Gaius seems to have told you of my skills. Will you be backing me this year?"

Tiberius guffawed and then burst into a coughing fit. I waited patiently while he recovered, reduced to hiccups and tapping his nose secretively. "You know I can't tell you that, clever girl. Sneaky girl. However, just between you and me, I think you'll do just fine this year."

His voice had lowered to a murmur at this point, and his tone was confidential. I faked an expression of sincerity and I whispered back.

"What makes you think that, Tiberius?"

At this, Tiberius gave a shifty glance around us. "Can you keep a secret?"

My heart began to race. What was I about to discover? A secret only a Gamemaker knew?

Without waiting for a response, Tiberius continued. "The Games are going to change this year."

My chest tightened, this time in nerves. "How so?"

Tiberius gave another quick glance around before continuing. "There have been stirrings, in the districts. Stirrings of rebellion. Some districts have even attempted some small uprisings. This isn't good. The President isn't happy."

I sat frozen in place. This wasn't good indeed. The Games were going to change because of this? What could that mean for me? What if this change meant that I couldn't compete this year? I was 18 years old. This year was my only chance. Panic began to grip me, but I managed to keep my composure.

"This is all very shocking, Tiberius. I'm sure the President will get everything under control. But I must know, will this affect my position as Tribute?"

He let out another booming laugh and leaned away from me. The conversation was clearly over. "You needn't worry, silly girl. No need to worry! Have a drink!"

I politely rejected that offer and excused myself. I hurried upstairs, pushing through party guests, in search of a bathroom. I didn't need to use it. I just needed a few minutes of quiet to think about what I'd just heard. Finding what I was looking for, I rushed into the bathroom, locked the door behind me and leaned against it.

Was all of this true? Or was it just a drunken man's ramblings? No. I had seen the genuine fear in his eyes as he spoke of rebellion. The Capitol feared it. It was perhaps the only thing they feared. And so they should. The last uprising had almost destroyed Panem. What if this time, the districts were able to overcome the odds?

I shook my head. Tiberius had also said I needn't worry. Even if the Games were affected by these stirrings, he had said that my place as a Tribute was secure. I rinsed my hands in the sink and resisted the urge to splash some of the cold water in my face. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back out into the party.

"That conversation seemed very intense."

I flinched at the close proximity of Jet's voice. He was leaning casually against the wall just outside the bathroom door with a lazy grin. I could smell liquor and cologne and that musky scent that was exclusively male. I realised he must be referring to my talk with Tiberius.

"It was just a conversation. He was drunk," I replied dismissively. I was done with talking for the day, and an inevitable row with Jet was the last thing I needed.

Jet seemed to be in no rush to wrap things up. "He's a Gamemaker, you know. He didn't promise you anything, did he?"

I noticed that his grin had taken a harder edge. A sober Jet could be violent enough, so I certainly didn't want to provoke a slightly drunken version.

"Don't be absurd. You know he can't do that. He'd lose his job," I sighed, struggling to keep my tone light.

"Well, with the way you're dressed tonight, even I'd be tempted to risk my job for you," Jet teased, his expression relaxing.

I was relieved by his change of demeanour, and confused by the compliment. "What's with you?"

"Just because I don't like you, doesn't change the fact that you're hot," Jet shrugged, sipping some amber coloured liquid. He looked good. He wore a finely tailored suit that fit him nicely, and his hair had been tousled just so, styled that way to express his wild edge.

"Why don't you like me, Jet?" I snapped, my suppressed emotions from the day's events beginning to outpour. I was willing to take my frustrations out on the boy who had given me nothing but grief for the past decade. "Since we're being so civil, what did I ever do to make you hate me?"

"Because I wanted you, and you said no," Jet replied simply. I paused at this. I thought back to that day, when I had rejected his advances. That same day that he'd butchered another student, and the walls had echoed with his laughter as the trainers dragged him away.

"You were harsh to me well before then, but I suppose that's just your nature," I murmured, disconcerted. I didn't like not being in control of the situation, and I wasn't sure where this one was heading.

"See, we understand each other," Jet mocked, smirking. I rolled my eyes. I was tired of conversation, but I realised that I wanted this ease in our relationship to continue. Jet had always been a threat to me. Continuing this almost decade long rivalry would be no good once we got in the arena. Jet was the only person I'd ever feared. Jet was the only person I'd met that could best me, could beat me. Therefore, Jet was the only person that could kill me once the time came.

In my musing, Jet had stepped closer. He now leaned over me, not threatening as I expected, but instead, his expression seemed curious. His eyes were black and beautiful, and darkened even more so by another emotion. He had set his drink down. I recognised this emotion.

"So how about it, Flare?" his voice had lowered and become thick and husky. The air around us seemed a little more heated, and I felt myself getting uncharacteristically flushed.

"What?" I asked, stumped by his question and hating how breathless I sounded. Jet seemed to enjoy my unease. He tilted his face closer to mine, his burning breath wafting over my tingling skin. I knew what this was. I knew what he was feeling for me, and I knew that I was starting to feel it too. Lust. He wanted my body, and I'd always wanted his, much to my own self loathing. There was no love between us and there never would be. It was a primal craving. The tension was becoming too much. My skin itched and ached and I had to _move._

"Can I have you now?" Jet murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. I was surprised to discover that I liked this closeness. I liked the hum of our bodies as they rose and fell in unison with heavy breaths, inches apart. What would it feel like to touch him? In all the time that I'd known Jet, I'd never touched him. I placed my hand where the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, on his exposed skin. I liked how his heart rate increased, how it increased for _me_. It was too much, but it wasn't enough. I knew what this was, and I knew what I was going to do. I had to do this not only because I wanted it, but to finally place myself above Jet. To have bested him. To have beaten him. To know his body as well as his mind and to finally have some advantage over him. I had to do this so that I could learn how to kill him.

"Promise me something?" I whispered in his ear, sealing my fate and pressing every part of flesh I could against him and delighting in the way he shivered in response.

"I don't do promises," he growled, trailing his fingers down my partially exposed chest and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

I gripped his face roughly between my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes and smirking slightly as I saw the hunger in his gaze. "You'll like this one."

Jet seized my arm and dragged me down the corridor into a room that must be his. He threw me onto the bed and started towards me. I trembled in anticipation as he became the predator. I had seen him like this before, but had yet to experience being his prey. How had I never even considered this? Sex was power, and I needed this power. Power over Jet. I wanted, needed, to hurt him for all the hurt he had inflicted on me. This sent another thrill through me. He went to kiss me, but I grabbed a handful of his hair and glowered at him expectantly.

"What is it?" he snapped, impatient with my taunting.

"Don't take it easy on me."


	4. Chapter 4

The Reaping was today.

Two days had passed and this dawn had finally dawned for me. The Reaping was today.

I was up and ready by the time the sun's soft light had kissed the outskirts of District 1. Being one of the smaller districts but one of the most highly populated, I'd soon began to hear people stirring, and a charged atmosphere grew in the air. I was anxious, and unable to stop moving, as was my nature no matter how hard I'd tried to tame it. I was restless. I'd resorted to digging my fingernails into the bite mark on my inner thigh, in order to use the pain as a distraction from my mind. The Reaping was today.

As the minutes dragged by and people finally began to leave their houses and head to the Square, I stepped outside, knowing I wouldn't be returning to this house in some time. The morning was cold. The sky was overcast and grey. I left the Village and started my journey on foot. Unlike most districts, 1 was filled with excited chatter as I made my way to the Square. Youthful faces smiled in relief as I passed. They knew how things worked here. They knew they were safe this year. They knew someone had been brave enough to train for the Games and volunteer for them. My reasons for offering myself were actually far more selfish.

The sky had grown paler by the time I reached the Square. People made way for me as I signed in and took my place in line with my age group. I didn't have to ask them. They looked to me as a saviour, a warrior, a champion and in some cases, a fool. Over a dozen Victors sat upon the stage beside the Justice building. They noticed my arrival. The emotions in their stares ranged from pride, to distaste, and to pity. I remained emotionless, still at last. Now that the moment was here, my worries had subsided and I was still. So very still. It was time. The Reaping was now.

The reading of the Treaty of Treason, the recap of footage from the Dark Days, and all the other traditional features of the Reaping passed by in what felt like seconds. I reined in my impatience as the District 1 escort, Minerva Lockheart, trotted over to the microphone and began her speech in that horrific accent. I closed my eyes. I remained still.

"Let's start with the girl-"

"I volunteer as Tribute."

All was quiet, but before the applause could begin, a large screen that backed the stage flicked on. President Coriolanus Snow sat in his office and smiled serenely at the camera. My eyes were wide open.

"Greetings, citizens of Panem."

Instantly, his voice sent spasms of rage and doubt and fear through me. Tiberius Portworth was a drunk, but he wasn't a liar. As the president continued to speak, the red in my vision didn't abate. I stared into the artificially projected eyes of Coriolanus Snow and made an oath.

 _If you take this away from me, I will end you._

"You all must be wondering why I am speaking to you right now. This certainly isn't normal Reaping protocol, after all. However, these are not normal times."

People began to murmur. The atmosphere thickened, choking me and exacerbating my fury. I was Flare Diamandis and I had to be safe. I had to be chosen. I had to be.

"As you know, every twenty-fifth year, we host a Quarter Quell. A Quarter Quell includes a twist in our beloved Games, a rule change to keep you all entertained and to further remind you of your past mistakes. I have decided that this year, to break tradition as you districts once did, the 73rd Hunger Games will include a Quell twist. _I_ will change the rules as you once so did."

His sickly smile remained, as did my instability. I was no longer still. I had to move. He had to drop the final bomb.

The murmurings had morphed into panicked conversation, people shouting over each other and the President waited patiently. So very patiently. The Victors that were also trainers at the Academy were gesturing madly to me to come over to the stage. I was going nowhere.

I felt sick to my stomach as the President produced a foreboding slip of paper from his suit pocket. He read it aloud.

"To remind the districts that when they turned against their providers, they not only doomed themselves, but also their mothers, wives, sisters and daughters, this year, each district will offer up a single female tribute between ages twelve and eighteen. This female will be chosen by you. You will select eleven of twelve females of the right age to compete in the Price of Defiance challenge which will take place in your district Squares in two hours time. The participation of the female who was Reaped or volunteered today is compulsory, and she will be one of the twelve. You have an hour to select your potential Tributes. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

The rage vanished as quickly as it came, and I couldn't hold back a shaky little laugh. My odds looked good. The Reaping was over.


	5. Chapter 5

"You don't seem concerned, Flare," Augustus Braun hissed. "Are you not concerned?"

I stood with my arms out wide as Peacekeepers rushed around me on the stage, fitting me with protective gear. I waved one worker away as they tried to place a helmet on my head.

"I've beaten all of these girls before, Augustus," I replied tiredly. His anxieties at the change of events were grating on me. "What does one more time matter?"

District 1 were still shouting over each other, pushing and shoving to get a look at the twelve names that were glaring out from the screen where Snow's face had loomed only an hour or so before. The senseless arguing was aggravating, but I had to remain calm. It was decided after only minutes of deliberation that the remaining eleven females would be selected from the top twelve places in the rankings. My competition were the eleven who were beneath me, and beneath me they would continue to be.

"Is this arrogance?" Augustus quipped, his arms folded stiffly behind his back. He did not like this change in procedure. Neither did the rest of District 1's officials. Tension was rife as the sun started to show its face.

"I'm not Jet," I snapped, my eyes daring him to object. The last of the Peacekeepers let me be, satisfied that I was fully equipped for what was to come.

"Speaking of which, where is he?" Augustus spoke more to himself than to me. He glanced around warily, causing my stomach to tighten. I could not begin to imagine what chaos Jet would be causing at this moment. He would be beyond incensed. He would be murderous, and I wanted no more to do with that monster now that he was out of the Games. The bite mark on my thigh stung.

"Where are my knives?" I wondered idly, unnerved by their absence.

"We have been informed that no weapons shall be used in this 'Price of Defiance' challenge," Gloss, a former Victor, answered me. He too seemed tense.

"No matter," I shrugged, although I would've preferred to have my weapon of choice at hand. I wanted this to run as smoothly as possible.

"It's a tower," Gloss remarked. I turned to him in confusion, before noticing what he spoke of. Hundreds of Peacekeepers had been dashing about the Square for the past hour, creating space for something that up until now remained a mystery. The sea of people parted to reveal two large Capitol vehicles, towing in an enormous construction.

"A tower," I confirmed. It had several platforms and rose to an impressive height of around 40 feet. It seemed that us potential tributes had to climb the levels to the top platform while avoiding the obstacles between platforms, which included spouting water hoses and jets of flame from holes hidden within the tower, and great beating logs that could be pushed through to the opposite end of the tower to strike an opponent. First woman to the top wins. I relayed all of this to Gloss.

"Sounds about right to me," he affirmed with a nod. "It will be tricky, and it's a long way down to fall."

I frowned at this. Mats had been placed around the tower's base as it was unloaded into the centre of the Square. Mats wouldn't save your skull from a 40 foot drop.

"You have no weapons. Flare, you know what to do if another trainee should make it to the top before you do."

I jerked my head to the side and made a noise like a neck snapping. "I know what to do."

Gloss awarded me with a grim smile before striding off to talk to another Victor, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I would use this valuable remaining time to learn the tower. My opponents were gathering. Some seemed afraid. They had never wanted any part of the Games to begin with. Others looked determined at this chance for redemption. They would not obtain it. I met their hungry stares with a Spartan smile.

 _You will not take what is mine._

Voices began to clamour as the tower let out a mechanic clink as it's platforms began to whir into motion, spinning alternatively clockwise then anticlockwise at a dangerous speed. I approached the Price of Defiance. Barricades had been set around the Square to keep the citizens out. Peacekeepers stood armed and watchful. Only the competitors and medical staff were allowed close to the looming obstacle tower. Not long now.

"You're done, Flare," a hulking girl named Lux snarled, wise enough to keep her distance from me. "This day is mine."

I smirked, tightening my bracers. I expected this sort of behaviour, and I almost pitied them. They had never stood a chance against me before now. Today would be no different. A Capitol showman was hyping up the crowd, drawing half-hearted cheers from the wary citizens of 1. This Price of Defiance and the President's speech had evidently unsettled people. I scoffed at them. They were giving the President exactly what he wanted- their fear. I would not be so easily conquered.

"Competitors, ready yourselves!" the showman hollered. I had been ready for a long time. I could wait a little longer. I could crush a few more skulls and dreams before claiming my throne.

I shook with adrenaline and bounced from foot to foot. The sun had fully emerged. Sweat trickled down my temple. One more fight, Flare, and then you're on your way to the greatest fight of them all.

"Competitors, you may begin at the sound of the claxon!"

Hopeful parents shouted encouragement to their daughters, overjoyed that their precious little darlings had another chance at achieving the highest honour of District 1. I smiled. The receiving of my steel toe capped boot to their mouths would be the highest honour they would achieve in this life.

There was no countdown. The crowds roar was silent in comparison to the deafening clang of the claxon. It reverberated through my very being and gave me that final push into my feral state. I lurched forward, not taken unawares, and began my ascent.


	6. Chapter 6

The climb was hard, but the sun's presence was harder. Heat bared down upon me, and the perspiration on my brow soon streamed down my face and threatened to blind me. I had been right to refuse a helmet. They were always a bad idea.

The shouts of encouragement from below seemed as quiet as whispers, my ears still ringing from the claxon's cry. My senses weren't at their sharpest, but nothing could hinder me now. I continued to climb.

The circumference of the tower was too wide for me to see the other competitors, but as I climbed higher, the tower became more narrow. Soon I could see disembodied limbs, and gradually full figures. Reyna Auralius was far below, hanging onto a plank for dear life, her front soaked with water. The hoses had caught her early. She was done. I heard her scream as she fell. I continued to climb.

The tower was as unforgiving as the weather. I narrowly avoided a jet of flame which the sweat in my vision had caused me to miss. It singed the edges of my sleeve, and the crowd released an audible gasp as I carried on unscathed. I was over halfway up now, and had managed to keep my balance on the first three spinning platforms, but only just. The Price of Defiance was proving to be treacherous.

Suddenly, a crushing blow to my stomach caused me to lose my breath. One of the wooden beaters. I glared through a hole in the tower to see Lux on the opposite side, a grin on her face as she clambered into the lead. I was winded, but an all consuming rage had filled me. My face would be the last thing she saw before she died. I carried on, struggling to breathe, but frantic at the thought of falling behind. More yelps and cries sounded out as more competitors fell, and the terrified screams of mothers as their daughters crashed to ground shook my bones. I was the weapon now. I was the machine.

Lux was still ahead, but as she reached the fourth platform I saw her stumble. I seized my opportunity and took a risk I normally wouldn't chance, but I was lost to my instincts. I crouched and sprang, gripping the edge of the platform and hauling myself upwards. My arms screamed in protest and I felt as if they would be ripped from their sockets, but my upper body strength and will prevailed. I rose up beside a recovering Lux and started towards her, the platform spinning in my favour. She snarled and threw a reckless punch that missed and almost sent her tumbling. The crowd held its breath. I continued to dodge her badly aimed blows and ducked just in time to avoid a hit to the skull from a rotating beam. Lux wasn't as quick. A clang sounded out as she was struck, knocked to her back and dazed. I was on her in seconds. I'd calculated the timing of the flames just right. I smiled into her wide eyes before I jerked her head up towards the fire. Her screams were quickly cut short as she was cooked alive inside the bronze helmet. They always were a bad idea. I didn't waste time by watching her fall or acknowledging my now burnt hand, I had to move quickly, as I wasn't sure if someone had overtaken me in the time it took to dispatch her.

My arms were shaking with the effort, but I hurried onwards. Reaching the final platform and the top of the tower, I saw the flagpole bearing the flag of Panem waiting to be raised. This was it. My victory was here, within reach. My competition was dead and gone. I lurched forward on trembling legs and tore the flag from its place and raised it high above my head. I did things my way. The screams and cheers and the claxon were music, and I was the conductor. I was the queen. I was the Tribute.


End file.
